


Light It Up

by faxingberlin (wherehaveallthecowboysgone)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Biting, F/F, F/M, Finger Fucking, Multi, Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, izzy teaches clary Things, like how to touch victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9185393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehaveallthecowboysgone/pseuds/faxingberlin
Summary: Izzy and Clary ignore the golden rule of cooling down after you work out and end up capitalising on the sexual tension during their training session, with Victor Aldertree thrown in for good measure. Set during 2x01. Unapologetic smut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so i watched 2x01 this morning and holy fuck the sexual tension during that training.... and the moment where izzy stares down victor and he grins?? cripes. don't ask me when where or why this takes place bc idk, i just wanted to write these people banging and that is the magic of life bc i spent my day doing just that

He was amused still. “If this is a plot to sway my decision on Jace, then you’re in for a rude disappointment.” Clary looked discomfited; Izzy squeezed her hand warmly. Turning back to Aldertree, she raised her eyebrows. He laughed. “Come now—anyone passing through the New York Institute gets to hear of Isabelle Lightwood’s reputation. It’s not exactly a secret, is it? And since your brother made a pass at the last Clave representative here, it’s not unexpected that it runs in the family—though I hear that I might be more his type than Miss Branwell was.” He held her gaze mockingly, baiting her with that jab at Alec, daring her to break the image of the seductress and snap back. You know nothing of him, she thought, centring herself coolly. 

Turning to Clary, whose resemblance to beetroot was flourishing by the second, Aldertree took in her t-shirt and jeans with a sardonic gesture. “Clarissa, on the other hand…”

“What about me?” Clary snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, rocking from heel to heel. 

Izzy rolled her eyes gently. He wasn’t wrong; this wasn’t really Clary’s scene. There had been undeniable desire in those eyes as the staff had been held to her chest, caught up in the adrenaline of the fight and the shifting balance of power. Izzy had known that Aldertree would see it, watching them less than covertly from his desk, and the gleam of real interest from him had caught her eye. Who wouldn’t be interested? She was fully confident in herself, of course. And, while Clary still had that slightly gawky, awkward tension to her, it was endearingly attractive: it turned the mind to wondering how her body would hold the tension with hands and lips and tongue burning it up, how her mouth would shape gasps and cries as her legs shook…

“You,” Aldertree said, rubbing one hand against his chin thoughtfully, “do not have a long history of fucking people you want information from.” The profanity made Izzy blink—Shadowhunters were usually icily polite to the point of ridiculousness—but she was otherwise unruffled. It didn’t matter what other people thought about that. 

“How dare you—,” Clary began furiously, cut off when Izzy laid a hand on her arm. She shut her mouth with an air of childish, mutinous anger, still glaring at Aldertree. It washed over him utterly without impact; he sat still straight backed and strong in the chair, watching both of them with deep amusement. 

“It doesn’t bother you to hear that sort of thing about yourself?” he said, tilting his head almost coquettishly. 

Izzy smiled. “I’m not ashamed.” And she wasn’t; there was no shame in pleasure freely shared. “It’s not a transaction. We’re not selling ourselves for information.” She shrugged. “Just an invitation to join us.”

That startled a laugh from him. “You two? So it does run in the family. Do your parents know that they raised such a pair of… well, degenerates seems too strong a word, but I won’t deny that it has appeal.” 

“Leave the Lightwoods alone!” 

Aldertree steepled his fingers contemplatively and regarded Clary over their tips. “You’re not particularly convincing, Clary,” he said, not unkindly. “When you want something from someone, you’re not usually supposed to be so… aggressive. Miss Lightwood is, at least, making an effort.” 

“She doesn’t have to like you,” Izzy said, imbuing it with promise. 

He raised one elegant eyebrow. “If this isn’t just a very diverting waste of my time, then,” he said, offering a hand to Clary. She looked at it with the same ferocity one might direct towards pestilence, and took it. Aldertree was clearly surprised. “Are you quite sure?” he asked her. “You might not think very highly of me, Clary, but I’m not asking you to do this and I’ve been very clear that it won’t change my mind about Jace. I don’t particularly enjoy partners who evidently don’t want to be there…” 

Clary’s expression was set and determined. “Shut up,” she said. “Stop talking about Jace. You don’t deserve to talk about him.” 

Chuckling, Izzy ran her fingers up Clary’s back, delighting in the shiver that rippled away from her touch. “How about we all stop talking?” She dug her knuckles into the tight muscle around Clary’s shoulders, feeling how solid they were and massaging out especially knotty sections. “I think that there is more than enough sexual tension in this room to get started with.” 

Aldertree raised Clary’s hands to his mouth and brushed its back with his lips, just the barest hint of warm breath ghosting over her skin. She shuddered back into Izzy’s waiting hands, caressing and soothing. Caught in between two consummate lovers, her shyness began to crumble. It was a little hard not to feel somewhat awkward in the aching slowness of their movements; she’d expected to leap into making out or something, the tangle of bodies rendering it a tetric fumble. This was altogether stranger and sweeter. 

Keeping her eyes on Aldertree—Victor, she supposed—Izzy drew aside the curtain of Clary’s hair and laid a soft kiss where neck met shoulder, trailing up and down the curve. Victor smiled wickedly and took one of Clary’s fingers into his mouth. There was some element of communication between them; it was achieved nearly simultaneously and Clary’s shocked, pleased gasp was the only sound travelling through the air. He sucked on her finger, running his tongue first under and then around, flicking it against the very tip. Izzy’s warm hands slid down Clary’s sides, lifting the bottom of her shirt ever so slightly. Just underneath the hem, she found where Clary’s jeans met skin, tracing the line to her hipbones. 

Clary’s eyes were closed, her head tilted back, hips moving restlessly. She was impatient, Izzy noted; the inexperienced often were, wanting to follow some prescribed course of join-the-dots, throwing themselves together. Silly. The longer you craved touch, the more satisfying it was to get it. 

Victor took another finger, drawing them from the very back of his mouth to pop from his lips with a soft, oddly erotic noise. “Look at me, Clary,” he said, voice suddenly a great deal lower. Izzy nipped lightly at Clary’s neck as her lids lifted languorously, drawing a sharp gasp. “Good.” She watched as Victor held Clary’s eyes, closing his lips back over her fingers. She saw his jaw flicker and move as he lavished careful attention on flesh that would be growing increasingly sensitive, lips curving in a wicked smile as Clary’s breathing sped up.

Izzy bit her neck again softly, seeking the reaction she’d obtained so gratifyingly before, and was satisfied. With the determined mind-set of a scientist, she set out to see what pressure melted Clary best, which area was the most sensitive, all the while tracing abstract patterns over Clary’s stomach and hips. She was beginning to burn herself, warmth between her legs taking on what felt like a heartbeat of its own, the blood rushing from her heart and head. Victor, however neat in that suit, was clearly affected himself; the seams of his trousers were straining. 

“Touch him,” she whispered in Clary’s ear. “See how turned on he is by you? See how much he wants you?” Against her, she felt Clary falter slightly. 

“I don’t know how…”

Hooking her fingers into Clary’s belt and deftly unbuckling it to fall away, Izzy smiled. “That’s alright. You’re a quick study, remember? I’ll teach you.” 

Aldertree leaned back, legs spread wide. “Honoured by the attention, ladies.” 

“Didn’t he make you feel good?” Izzy whispered still, dipping her fingers past the hem of Clary’s jeans. Clary clapped a hand to her mouth, muffling her own gasp, and Victor tugged it gently away. “That’s right,” she murmured, “we want to hear you. Want to return the favour for him?” She dragged her hands higher, feeling Clary’s strengthening muscles tremble, and slid them back under the shirt. “Don’t you want to hear him moan for you? I want to hear him call your name. I want to hear you both scream…” Victor was undoing his trousers and sliding eagerly out of them as Izzy pulled Clary’s shirt over her head, letting her touch linger on bare skin. 

Clary wore a sweet, simple bra in a spring green which made her tumbling hair even brighter, embossed with trailing curlicues of darker green blossoming into small, delicate flowers. Both of the others drank it in for a moment, her small breasts rising and falling over the elegant balcony, joined in the centre by an inexplicably adorable little bow. She made as if to take it off, and Izzy caught her arms neatly.

“All in good time. Now take a step forward… that’s good—I want you to be able to reach him easily.” For a moment she watched the tableau critically, and turned her attention to Victor. “Down to your shirt,” she ordered. 

“Who exactly is the Head of the Institute here?” he sighed, sounding hard done by; the glittering amusement of his expression making it quite clear that he felt not at all put upon. He began to shrug off his jacket, dismantling the beautiful suit bit by bit. Izzy leaned in, seizing his tie in a grip made firm by years of handling weaponry. 

She pulled him forward ever so gently, just enough to apply uncomfortable pressure, and whispered, “Outside this room, you might be the Head of the Institute.” She gestured around with her free hand. “But in here? You and I both know that I’m in charge.” Pure lust sparked in his eyes, and he leaned back as she released him.

The jacket was tossed aside into a corner of the room, and he ripped off a mock salute. “Aye aye, ma’am.” 

Victor took his time, making a show of it. There was a definite element of sauce in the way that he unbuttoned his waistcoat. In the meantime, Izzy returned her attention to Clary, whose breathing had begun to slow to normal speed. She pressed herself against Clary’s back, letting the rougher material of her training shirt rub against bare skin. Once more, she drew soft patterns up Clary’s body; she wasn’t going to leap into it like some kind of impatient teenage boy. 

For the first time, her hands brushed Clary’s breasts. It wasn’t especially demanding, but Clary gasped. Victor, in the midst of removing his waistcoat, let out a low curse. As he moved onto his tie, Izzy traced the underside of Clary’s breasts, her fingertips fluttering in the most delicate of pressures. Deep in her throat, Clary made an impatient, insistent noise, and ground back against Izzy. 

“You’re torturing the poor girl,” Victor said, laughing. “I get the feeling she’s not the kind for soft little touches.” 

Clary flushed a deep red and Izzy leaned in to leave little delicate kisses from shoulder to jaw, relaxing her again. “He’s just jealous,” she murmured. “Besides… all in good time.” All the same, taking pity, she moved her hands to the same level as Clary’s bra, rubbing her thumbs relentlessly in small circles over the fabric. Between her index and middle finger she pinched, first gently and then more firmly, feeling Clary’s nipples stiffen under her touch. The other girl was beginning to pant in time with each hold and release, leaning forward into Izzy’s touch. 

Victor remained attentive throughout efficiently disposing of each button and then his whole shirt. It joined the growing pile of his garments, followed by shoes and socks—which had begun to look a little funny on a frame otherwise nearly naked—and he sat there in just his briefs, clearly enjoying the show. 

“Do you like it,” Izzy whispered into Clary’s ear, “soft…”—caressing Clary’s skin between her fingers with gentle, quick movements—“or… rough?” She pinched properly that time, thumb and forefinger tightening cruelly around the fabric over Clary’s nipples. The gasp she received was deeply gratifying, as was the instinctive roll backwards of Clary’s hips against her own, the friction very welcome. Still, wicked, she tsked with an air of disappointment and let go. Clary sagged, letting out a moan of protest. “That wasn’t an answer, Clary.”

The other girl ducked her head, clearly slightly embarrassed, and mumbled, “Rough.”

Izzy unhooked Clary’s bra, tossing it onto the pile of clothing, and pinched again. The other girl arched her back into a beautiful curve. “Did you hear that?” Izzy asked Victor. “Sounds like you were right.” Bare in the light of the room, Clary’s breasts bounced with each jagged breath she took. Izzy took a quiet moment of satisfaction to see both Clary and Victor half-naked and increasingly dishevelled in front of her. “Now,” she said, “let’s not neglect our new Head.” The look Victor threw her was wry, another shake of the head at a dreadful pun. “You can stand, Clary,” she continued, twisting one delicate nipple in her left hand, delighting in the panting gasps escalating every time she did so, “but you might find it easier to reach if you kneel. Trust me. Just tap my arm if you feel uncomfortable, okay?” 

Clary sank to her knees in a graceless tumble. Izzy crouched down next to the other girl, resting lightly on the balls of her feet, balance perfect. “Now I want you to reach out—that’s good, good girl—don’t go straight to his cock, Clary, I want you to start with his chest. Nice, just like that. See where he reacts—try the bottom of his ribs.” Clary gave her a funny look at that. “Trust me. Go on—try some kisses.” With a slight frown of concentration, Clary leaned forwards, lifting herself up and pressing her lips to where Victor’s ribs ended and the expanse of his flat stomach took over. When the man let out a low curse, she raised her eyebrows in surprised, clearly pleased, and resumed with doubled vigour. Soon, Victor’s arms were taut, muscles twitching, as he clutched the armrests. He was watching Clary all the while, gaze blazing with lust. Izzy approved.

“Good girl,” she sang, stroking Clary’s hair. “Try moving lower…” She saw with glee how Victor bit his lip, eyes rolling back a little, as Clary moved over his abdomen, kisses gentle. “Some pressure? Try sucking, that’s my girl.” Victor’s moans grew louder, and Izzy grinned wickedly, sliding a hand between Clary’s legs. Clary gasped into Victor’s skin and he reached down to entangle a hand in her hair. “It’s so hot down here,” Izzy whispered to Clary, “is hearing him like this making you wet? Are you thinking what it’ll sound like when he comes for you? I am.” At first one finger, then two, she set to a fast, insistent rhythm against the crotch of Clary’s jeans. “Do you touch yourself like this when you’re alone? Give me an answer.” Clary nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “Does it make you feel this good?” A shake of the head. “Do you want to come?” Another vehement nod. 

Izzy rocked back onto her heels. “Not yet,” she said wickedly. “Nowhere near yet. Take those jeans off.” Clary stood eagerly, awkwardly, peeling her jeans down her legs. Looking between both her companions, Izzy considered who should lose the last of their clothes first. “And your pants,” she ordered, deciding on Clary. Not a little shyly, Clary pulled off her pants, matching the bra. Izzy didn’t leave her much time to feel awkward. “Step between his legs.” 

Victor was drinking Clary in, the pressure in his briefs stronger than ever. Izzy took pity on the seams. She slid onto the armrest next to Victor, and tugged. He took her meaning and wiggled out of the briefs. He was a good size; she had never liked anything too big. Girth was just right, not showy but with perfect potential. Precum was already sliding from his head. 

For a moment, Izzy surveyed her kingdom with immense satisfaction. Both Victor and Clary were trembling with desire, both of them boiling underneath the surface. Time to turn the heat up even further. She crooked her finger at Clary. “Closer.” They were all within the wings of the armchair, close enough to hear every breath offered and retracted. Izzy placed her hand on Victor’s cock, revelling in his hoarse gasp. She trailed her fingers over his base, gently cupping first one, then both of his balls. “First lesson,” she said to Clary. “Don’t neglect the balls. Never too hard: they’re sensitive. But it’s not all up here.” She demonstrated as she spoke, seeing Clary’s eyes follow her hand intently. It was true; she was a quick study. “But not right now. Spread those legs.” 

Lowering her eyes, looking askance at them through those beautiful lashes, Clary did as she was told. She had a curly thatch of hair between her legs, which Izzy approved of whole-heartedly. It was a darker shade than the hair on her head, but still with a burnished red glint to it. Throughout, Izzy continued to lavish attention on Victor, careful not to drag his foreskin in her enthusiasm. As she figured out what speed and pressure got the best reaction, she used her other hand to guide his between Clary’s legs. They shared a grin; he understood. 

Reverently, he parted her lips. Clary sighed, the muscles in her thighs quivering. A professional, he didn’t go straight for the clit. He circled it first, using one hand to keep her lips open and offering a stellar view to Izzy, who had to resist the urge to speed up her hand on his cock out of excitement. Up and down went his fingers, growing wetter and wetter. Clary began to roll her hips with a novice’s instinct, moaning low in her throat as she ground herself into the delicious friction.

Bad luck for Victor; Clary was just too tempting. Seeing the other girl’s smaller breasts bounce, Izzy uncurled herself from the armrest. He protested, growling, and she simply shrugged. “You’ll get your turn,” she said. 

Lowering herself to Clary, Izzy took one pretty little nipple into her mouth, sucking until the pressure made Clary cry out. She looked back at Victor, daring him to up the ante. Not to be outdone, he slipped a finger inside. It was a game, seeing who could obtain the best reaction. Really, unless he was useless, Victor should win; he had the advantage of the clitoris. 

There was something beautifully obscene about draping herself over Clary and watching Victor finger fuck her: first the one, then two. Izzy waited a moment to see if it would be painful, but it seemed that their languorous warm up was doing its job. Clary only panted harder. In between biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks Izzy kissed the sensitive zone where collarbone met neck. She knew from prized experience how that oft neglected area could feel. Latching onto Clary’s neck, she sucked painfully hard, inspecting her handiwork until she knew it would leave a colourful pattern of bruises. 

Idly, she brought Clary’s nipples back to full attention, and twisted them in her unforgiving fingers. Below, Victor sped up, setting a punishing rhythm. Internal stimulation wasn’t that all that, but Izzy was pleased to note that he used his thumb to brush her clit. It must have felt divine; Clary’s head was lolling back and she was tilting her hips further and further in an utterly wanton way. Izzy kept up her own end with Clary’s breasts, making sure that waves of pain and pleasure followed each other increasingly insistently. She amused herself deeply with the thought of how the other girl would react to clamps, and made a promise to bring it up at some point in the future. 

Seeing Victor’s fingers slide in and out of Clary, taking in the wonderfully indecent noises it was making, would give her fuel for getting herself off for the next year, she thought blissfully. 

“Does that feel good?” she whispered to Clary, who only whimpered in reply. “Do you like feeling him inside you? Watching him fuck you with his fingers is getting me so hot, and you know it. I knew you’d love doing this in front of me. You just want to show yourself off. Do you want to come now?” Clary nodded, each breath dragging itself from her lungs with herculean effort. “How much do you want to come, Clary?” 

“Please,” the other girl rasped, “please.” 

“Are you close?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, I am—” 

“I want to see you come for us, Clary, right now.” Victor increased his pace even more: it had become perfectly clear that rough and fast was what Clary liked best. The pressure on her clit from his loving thumb deepened. Izzy paid careful attention to all the erogenous zones she could reach, dancing over earlobes, neck, collarbones, breasts, overloading Clary’s fevered brain with enough input to push anyone over the edge. 

Seeing Clary come was a delight. So noisy up until now, she went quiet, closing her eyes tightly and opening her mouth just a little, biting her lip and shuddering all the way through. 

Izzy waited, drinking in every last second, until Clary slumped bonelessly forwards. Very well—she could rest a little while will Izzy and Victor got their fill. Usually completely demanding in terms of foreplay, Izzy was tonight so hot and wet from the spectacle that all she wanted was to lower herself on to Victor and ride him until she came. Her clothes, now nuisances, were quickly discarded. Even with the full, rich knowledge of what she’d witnessed, she was still surprised at just how wet she already was. 

Clary sat against the foot of the armchair, still panting, riding out the blissful aftershocks. 

Victor had his hand on his cock, clearly prepared to take himself to orgasm. He grinned as Izzy straddled his lap, intent clear. She parted her lips as he guided himself in, waiting until they were perfectly aligned and then abruptly thrusting upwards. Her mouth opened in surprise, but curved into a smile as he settled into a powerful, quick rhythm. He fit beautifully inside her, just as she’d suspected when she’d first seen the size of him. 

Putting his warm hands on her hips, he began to rock her at just the right angle. She was the one panting now, hissing curse words under her breath. It was frankly astonishing how fast she was hurtling towards coming, grinding against him with all her might, and it looked like he was in a similar state. 

He was courteous to the end, making sure that she came before she did. Just as Clary had been quiet, he was noisy, crying out in abandon. It was, by no means, the best orgasm that she’d ever had. Expecting that from her first time with a new person was unrealistically ambitious. But, by the angel, what an orgasm for an unfamiliar body, for a rushed, clumsy fucking. 

Izzy lifted herself off Victor and sat down next to Clary, putting her arm around the other girl. She relaxed, floating away on a wave of post-orgasmic bliss, mind already busy over the potential for future trysts.


End file.
